A Gladiators Beast
by JustAnotherRandomWriter
Summary: Short one shot about a gladiator and his regrets as he enetrs a fight.  Please R&R, this is my first myth fanfic


Arcion's breath echoed inside his helmet and his grip tightened on his short sword. He closed his eyes and took in slow deep breaths, preparing himself for the ordeal ahead. His eyes snapped open at the sound of grating steal and the straining of ropes.

"Your up, slave!" Came a rough voice from behind. He staggered forward a step at a sharp blow in the back, coming into the light. Arcion turned as if to use his standard issue sword on the man behind him, but was faced with a fast closing gate. The youth rushed it, but was to slow. He stood, clinging to the iron bars and glaring at the smirking face of the grubby slave master inside.

"Go on you bastard, get moving!" Spat the man, striking at Arcion's fingers. Arcion jumped back, teeth bared in a feral snarl, but it was hidden by his helmet. Then he turned to face the blinding light, taking a few uncertain steps into the great open space before him. A thundering roar, made by thousands of cheering voices, met him, and he stared in awe at the massive crowds seated above and around him. Now for his debut in the coloseum.

"Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!" Came the thundering cheer. Arcion took a few more steps forward, his sandaled feet sending up poufs of dust. Blood soaked the ground beneath his feet, mingling with the sand. Arcion kept walking, until he reached the center of the arena, and turned about, looking at the people surrounding him. There were so many, so many cheering for the fight, so many cheering for his reaction, so many, cheering for his blood, or the blood of his foe. That's when he saw him.

Standing about twenty feet from Arcion was his opponent. He was tall, about the same height as Arcion most likely. He was wearing nothing but a loin cloth, and in one hand he held a weighted net, while in the other a short sword, the opposite of Arcion's own sword ad his large shield. His chest was bare and his hair was shoulder length, curly, and dark brown. His face was filled with terror. Arcion felt pity well up inside of him, and he swallowed nervously, before shifting his shield grip.

"Reveal yourself to the crowd!" Came a shout from the royal pedestal, where the ruler of Rome was seated among his court, large family, and his personal guard. Sighing slightly, Arcion obeyed, spreading wide his arms and turning in a full circle, so that the crowd could see him. Oos and aas came from the admiring and bloodthirsty crowd as their eyes devoured his well muscled his body. The sun glinted off the scars and the sweat beading on his skin as he turned. When he came back to his original position, he pulled his arms again and lifted his shield. As he prepared himself for the fight, he realized that Caesar did not call for his opponent to turn and reveal himself. No, instead, the trumpet sounded.

"Fight!" Roared the Roman ruler. Arcion then felt the beast of his fights rear up in him. He usually managed to subdue it, but whenever he heard the roar of the fights, whenever he felt the steel against his skin, it stirred. And when the trumpets sounded, it would spring to life. With a roar, he charged forward, sword raised and helmeted head low. His opponent stumbled back in terror for a moment, then he steeled himself, and with a high pitched battle cry of his on that made Arcion's inner beast falter in its bloodlust, pity halting it. But then it reared up again, snarling.

Arcion struck first, slamming his shield into the other man's chest. The man staggered back with the impact, barely staying on his feet. In a desperate attempt at to stop the oncoming warrior, the poor man flung out his net, snagging it about Arcion's helmet and shoulders. Arcion grunted as one of the weighted ends struck him in the small of his back, but kept his balance, lashing out with his sword and cutting the net's strands so that it fell, uselessly to the bloodstained sand about them. The man before him turned pale, and let out a quiet shriek of terror.

Then he took up his short sword in both hands and, with the strength of desperation aiding him, he hacked away at Arcion. Again and again, the sound of steel on bronze and steel echoed about the arena, accompanied but the screams and cheers from above and around them. Finally, Arcion's beast decided to end it. Snarling and bearing his teeth inside his helmet, Arcion smashed the man in the chest with his shield, stronger than before. The sword was sent flying from the desperate man's hand, clattering uselessly to the ground as the man fell on his back.

Arcion set his foot on the man's chest, pinning him to the ground, and placing the tip of his sword to the man's throat. Boos and cheers echoed around him and he looked up through the slit of his helmet to the royal seat, where the ruler stood. His face was filled with bloody delight as he watched and he held out his hand as a closed fist. Silence fell as he did so, then cheers erupted again as Caesar gave the thumbs up. The man beneath Arcion groaned and whimpered as he saw the sign, and turned his panic filled eyes on the masked man above him.

Arcion struggled with his inner beast, and he searched the crowd for one face in particular. When he found it, he locked eyes with the others. Kelana blinked once, her eyes filled with tears as she watched Arcion change before her eyes. But he had no choice, she told herself. He was doing this for her. He was fighting for her freedom and his. But she couldn't help but think, how many other people had to die before their lives would be set free of chains, physically and verbally. Then she, like the rest of the crowd raised out her arm with her closed fist, and gave the thumbs up with closed eyes.

Once seeing his heart's desire agree with his king, he felt defeat, and the beast bellowed with triumph, raising its great hand and bringing it down, plunging his sword into the man beneath him. As screams of pleasure and cheers came from the satisfied spectators, Arcion bowed his head, his eyes closed and tears coming from his eyes.

"I'm sorry." He breathed to the glazed eyes below him. He was grateful for the helmet, hiding his face from the happy crowds.

"Now for the next battle!" Came Caesar's cry. Arcion withdrew his sword from the limp body, ignoring the drops of blood dripping from the blade's tip into the dirt about him. Then he reached the center of the arena again, he turned, already felling his bloodthirsty beast wriggling in anticipation of its next victim.


End file.
